Digital dirty talk
by BIFF1
Summary: Dick is just minding his own business at home when he gets a text from Mac. A sexy text! She had to have the wrong number but hell if he was going to tell her that. Two part one short, post novel, a few slightly spoilery lines but mostly just smutty fun.
1. Dick

**Digital Dirty Talk**

* * *

He's on his fifth hour of South Park, good and properly baked, when his phone vibrates across the coffee table and comes to a noisy stop next to his, now vibrating, beer bottle.

With a sigh, he grabs the phone to stop the noise. He has no intention of doing anything or anyone today.

The ocean is glass, and he's so fucking tired of the mindfuck involved in getting in girls' pants lately.

With a flick of his wrist, he reads the id on the message.

_Mac_

"What?" He pushes himself up into a sitting position to read the message.

What kind of trouble must they have gotten into to be sending _him_ the bat signal?

Veronica hadn't dragged her tech into the lion's den, had she? He had seen the look in her eyes when she had left Eduardo's house and that desperate need for justice had driven her, god for years last time, lives ruined, she took more than her pound of flesh and he was sure this would be no different.

His stomach tightened at the image of that red line of blood across the blonde's neck, and it only got worse when he replaced the blonde with the still mostly brunette nerd.

He braces himself for whatever clusterfuck he's going to be pulled into and opens her text message.

_Sitting __at __my __desk __fantasizing __about __how __hot __it __would __be __to __do __it __in __the __office_

He rereads it a couple times. That can't be Mac, he must have put her name on some other girl's contact information by mistake.

_Oh __yeah? __What __would __you __do __if __I __was __there?_

He replies, pushing himself up out of the couch and making his way to Logan's room where he has Veronica and the rest of her Scooby Gang's contact information, in case he gets into_ trouble_; the guy had no faith in him.

Oh yeah it's her alright.

He waits on what he is sure must be classified as baited breath for a response.

_I __want __you __under __my __desk, __I __can __feel __your __hot __hands __on __my __legs __already..._

God, who did she think he was, because he can't believe the jealousy that just flashed across his body

His fingers flash across the keypad, conscious to keep it going slow and not to jump straight to bending her over that desk and pushing deep into her. He can't be too vulgar, or she'll know it's him and he won't get anymore messages.

_What __are __you __wearing?_

God, he hopes that the person she thinks this is didn't see her already today.

He actually crosses his fingers as he sits back down on the couch.

_That __skirt __you __like, __no __panties_

He conjures up the skirt he thinks it must be, that gray librarian skirt that hugs her hips and draws that hot line down her shockingly slamming legs.

_No __panties?__You __bad __girl.__They __too __uncomfortable? __You're __soaked __thinking __of __my __hands __on __you. __My __hot __breath __on __your __legs, __pushing __your __skirt __up._

He stares at the words, waiting for a response, wondering if he should keep typing or wait for her to respond positively.

He can picture it with an outstanding clarity, for his idled mind. That space under her desk is big enough, he's thought about it before, can almost feel her soft skin under his fingers as he drags her skirt up to give him access.

_Then __what_

He holds his breath

_Fuck __you're __beautiful, __sitting __there __wet __for __me,__I __press __wet __kisses __against __the __insides __of __your __legs, __slowly __moving __up_

God... Best Day Ever!

It takes longer for her to respond this time, he's worried that he's scared her off, but the icon that she's typing finally appears.

Then disappears.

And reappears again.

_Sorry __hard __to __type __with __one __hand_

He reads that message twice to make sure it means what he thinks it does. She's touching herself; she's touching herself for him, because of his words, what he wants to do to her..._fuck..._

_I __grab __a __handful __of __that __pretty __blond __hair __and __slide __a __leg __over __your __shoulder, __my __heel __running __hard __down __your __back._

Blond. Blond hair. He grabs a piece of his hair and tries to look at it, is it pretty? Is she really talking to him on purpose, or is it just a beautiful coincidence?

He must be looking at his hair, and trying to decide if it's pretty for too long because his phone buzzes urgently in his hand.

_Too __rough?_

His response is quick.

_Fuck __no!__ P__lease... __I __slide __a __finger __slowly __into __you, __my __tongue __flicking __hard __across __you._

He sends it and waits, on the edge of the couch one hand griping the phone tightly, the other slowly rubbing himself through his shorts_._ He is so hard for her. She should probably know that, so he pauses in his administrations and sends another quick message.

_Fuck __I __want __to __be __inside __you __so __bad, __I'm __so __hard __for __you... I __wish __this __hand __was __yours_

He does. Fuck, does he ever wish that it was; her soft, warm hand, small and delicate, running slowly down him.

Her response is slow, and he wonders if she's been caught by Ronnie or if a client had come in. Is she typing with one hand? Please let her be sliding those slight fingers deep into herself, wishing it was him.

_I __want __you __inside __me, __hard __and __throbbing, __please, __please __bend __me __over __this __desk._

Thank you god!

He can clearly see himself bending her over that desk, her skirt up high, just fucking dripping for him.

_I __push __you __down __onto __that __desk, __bent __over __it, __skirt __up __around __your __waist, __fucking __beg __for __it._

He slides his hand into his shorts and his breath catches at the feel of his hand tight around himself, fuck his imagination must have gotten so much better because it feels like her, like he imagines she'd be, like he's imagined several times before.

_Please, __please __fuck __me, __I __need __it, __you_

It is getting seriously harder to respond with all the blood in his cock, pumping himself on the couch trying to type with one hand.

_God __your __so __wet __and __tight __I __slide __right __in, __deep, __I __bet __we __can __shake __that __second __monitor __off __your __desk._

Her response is quick.

_I __can __almost __feel __you, __my __fingers __are __too __small, __you'd __be __so __much __bigger __than __them, __thick __and __hot. come __for __me, __touch __yourself, __hard, __rough __like __you're __slamming __into __me. __I __want __to __hear __you __come __from __here_

He sinks his teeth into his lip, his hand quick, pumping himself to completion; the image of her over that desk, fucking begging and writhing under him, crystal clear.

He comes hard with a bark of noise, and it takes him a long time to pull his brain together to form words.

_Sticky, __I __want __to __taste __your __skin __as __you __come, __can __you __feel __the __thick __hot __cum, __I __want __you __fucking __filled, __want __to __hear __you __come._

_Do __it._

_Come __right __there, __stain __that __chair, __quick __before __they __notice, pump your fingers in deep_.

He is sticky and needs to change. He hopes he didn't get any on the couch. It's his fucking couch, but Logan gets all weird about bodily fluids in communal areas.

He's _fucking _spent, but he makes his way to his en suite, he needs a shower and new pants.

He sets the phone on the counter and peels off his shorts. He's working on his shirt when the phone buzzes across the marble counter.

He throws the shirt quickly, across the room, and picks up the phone.

_my __lip __is __bleeding... __I __had __to __bite __down __so __hard __to __keep __from __moaning __your __name __as __I __came. __I __stained __the __chair... I'm __such __a __bad __girl... promise __to __come over __to __my __place __tonight __to __punish __me_

"Fuck..." The blood made a quick detour from its journey to his brain, he'll need a cold shower now. He can't believe how badly he wants her.

_What __time?_

He's most likely not the blond she wants, but if he keeps her revved up all day the chance that she'll turn him away at the door will be lower and he'll do just that.

_Nine, __you __know __the __address,__right?_

It's sitting on Logan's desk, with Wallace's and Ronnie's dad's addresses.

_Yeah, __I'll __be__t here_  
-

He's hard, all over again, by the time he gets to her apartment door. They've been sending little ' _when __I __see __you'_ messages for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

'_When __I __see __you __I __am __going __to __rip __your __shirt __open __with __my __teeth'_ and like, until it had been difficult to focus on the road.

She has to be as hot for this as him_, God,_ she has to be. He needs to touch her so badly, to taste her, have her fingers twist in his hair, like she promised.

Holding his breath, he knocks on her door and waits to be turned away. Maybe he'll fall to his knees, in the middle of the apartment hallway, and beg her to touch him.

The door opens quickly, and Mac is standing there in that gray tight skirt he loves.

"Hey..." Her voice is low and slow; _God_ he wants to hear her gasping his name. She steps to the side and lets him into the apartment, she doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised to see him.

"You don't seem surprised to see me..."

Her red, wet mouth quirks into a smirk as she closes the door.

"Why would I be surprised? I asked you to come over?"

"So you knew it was me..."

The smirk slides into a smile as she reaches up and takes a handful of his hair, " Of course, I did. Who else would I send dirty texts to? Wallace?" She lets her fingers slide out of his hair and trace the line of his neck, slowly. There's a beautiful lilt in her voice.

"You want to fuck me." He states plainly.

"You want to fuck me." She returns breezing past him, he follows her to her bedroom door, where she stands there with a smile on her face. Her lips are practically calling out to him, and he can see where she had drawn blood. She had been serious, " You do still want to teach me my lesson, don't you?" Her voice seems to sink into him, deep and husky, and pulling what little blood he has left south.

"I've been thinking about you bent over my lap, all day." He tells her, watching a beautiful flush settle into her cheeks, " Pushing that skirt up around your hips, the feel of your skin, the sounds you'd-"

Her mouth crashes desperately onto his, one hand pulling his hair in a way he hadn't known he liked until this afternoon.

When she pulls back from him finally, he's panting for breath and harder than before.

"There are things I want you to do with your mouth, Dick,, but talking isn't one of them."

He nods his head obediently and lets her pull him into the bedroom, where he proceeds to make good on all the things he'd said; filled with the smell and taste of her, and the knowledge that he wasn't some horny consolation prize. He was who she had wanted in the first place, and the moment his hand came down hard on her ass and that low moan fell from her lips, he knew that he didn't want to share her with anyone else, _but they can talk about logistics in the morning._


	2. Mac

**Digital Dirty Talk - Mac**

* * *

She honestly doesn't remember Neptune being so devoid of viable partners before. She flops onto Veronica's desk, careful to flop around the takeout boxes.

"What's the matter Quartermaster?" Veronica asks, happily shoving more chow mein into her face.

"I need to get _laid_." The word is a desperate whispering plea as she looks up at the solver of problems.

"While it's a nice offer, I think Logan would be a little upset about me cheating on him."

"More like he'd be upset about not being able to watch."

"Touché." Veronica points her chopsticks at her happily.

In her opinion Veronica should be just as miserable as she is. Where were the commiserations, the plans to get her laid? That was, after all, why she was even mentioning the undiscovered country her underpants had become.

"So...if _you're_ not going to have sex with me, what should I do?" She puts a hand to her heart, "I mean obviously it will take a long time to heal from such a rebuke but..."

"What about that teacher friend of Wallace's?"

"Peter? Been there. Done that."

"And?"

"He thinks were soul mates..."

"And you think he's..." She pulls out the word waiting for Mac to fill in the blank.

"Just as boring in the sack as out."

"Rough...let me think about it."

Mac sits back in the chair and watches the determined look settle into her friends' features.

"How are you in such a good mood with lover boy on a boat, in the middle of nowhere, with all those seamen?"

Veronica face flushes a little and leans forward, waving her towards her urgently.

Rolling her eyes she leans forward, they were alone, her father was doing something with Cliff and Hunter, the only one who would catch their conversation would be a client, and they were getting really good at pretending to be professional.

"Logan and I have been exchanging dirty emails...last night's one was really good." She waggled her eyebrows at her again as she slide back into her chair and took the box of take out again.

"The emails are enough?"

She shrugs, "They make awfully good company while he's away. The moment he's back however...well I want you to hold my calls."

"Will do." She pushes herself up out of the chair, with a salute, and heads back to her desk, "Speaking of calls, you got another call from Mrs. Vandersen wanting an update, she sounded awfully antsy."

"Oh philanderers, how I wish I was better than you." She tells the folder on her desk with a jab of her finger.

With a soft laugh, Mac goes back to her desk to work on something, anything to take her mind off sex.

* * *

It doesn't work, nothing works, she's done everything she could think of and everything had a background of sex, bent over this very desk, his hot hands on her skin, thrusting into her, fucking in the cramped space under the desk urgently while clients walked by, his large hand on her mouth keeping the sounds in, her hands full of that stupid pretty blond hair.

Wait.

Stupid.

Pretty.

Blonde.

Dick Casablancas.

He wouldn't think they were soul mates, Dick would take it at face value without reading anything into it.

Maybe she could...

But the idea of just fucking Dick, of all people, wasn't sitting right. She wanted someone that would fuck all this stress and tension out of her, and he could do it.

It was just... _What if he didn't want to?_

She didn't think she could stand rejection from such a renowned playboy.

There had to be a way to find out if he wanted to have sex with her without just coming out and asking.

Veronica practically danced out of the office towards the coffee machine.

If a naughty email could do that for her friend, surely sexy text messages could tide her over as well.

An email was out of the question, she had no idea what to write and there was no going back from that. It wasn't like that could have been sent in error.

A small text could be an error. If he wanted to fuck her, he'd respond in kind; if he didn't, he'd tell her she had the wrong number.

Okay.

Decided.

She was going to sext Dick Casablancas.

She pulled up his contact info in her phone, newly acquired from Logan before he had deployed. Something about paying her back for any bail money he would rack up while he was gone.

Now she just had to figure out what to send...

She stares at the blinking curser for at least five minutes before she dropped unhappily to the desktop.

Why was this so hard? Everything she could think of either sounded too much like a porno, to be anything other than a joke, or too blunt and awkward.

Research was needed.

She's read eight articles on the art of sexy texting and she feels no more prepared than she had before she had read any.

She bites her lip and writes a message, something simple and true.

_Sitting __at __my __desk __fantasizing __about __how __hot __it __would __be __to __do __it __in __the __office._

She closed her eyes tight and sent the message, breath held waiting for something to happen.

It takes a couple of minutes but her phone vibrates urgently in her hand.

Dick.

_Oh __yeah? __What __would __you __do __if __I __was __there?_

It's a relatively tame response and she finds that she's a little disappointed. She wants to feel his words, wants to feel hot and tingly, desperate with words alone; but he's keeping it tame like he doesn't want to scare her off.

What would she do if he was here?_ Under the desk._ She wants him under the desk.

_I __want __you __under __my __desk, __I __can __feel __your __hot __hands __on __my __legs __already..._

Veronica pops her head out of the inner office door, with a smile on her face.

"What about Dick?" She asks and Mac drops her phone into her lap.

"What?"

"What about _Dick._" She emphasizes his name like a double entendre, and it takes no time at all to realize that she's talking about having sex with Dick.

"You think he'd..." She trails off because she's not sure she can manage the rest of that sentence. Sure Dick is responding in a relatively positive manner, but he could just think she's someone else.

"Absolutely he would. Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

"How does he..."

Her phone vibrates in her lap sending a sharp thrill through her body.

"Like he wants to devour you, plus that skirt you're wearing today," She looks down at the gray pencil skirt covering her thighs, "he loves that. You show up at his door in that, with some wine or something, and I swear your problem is solved. We can look for a meaningful relationship after we get you laid." She smiles brightly and disappears back into the office.

She picks the phone up from her lap.

_What __are __you __wearing_

Armed with the knowledge that he has a favorite skirt, she starts another message.

_That __skirt __you __like_

She feels like there should be more to that.

_No __panties_

She adds because that's got to get the messages where she wants them.

She leaves the phone in her lap for the next message, enjoying the idea of the vibration in such a public place.

It vibrates in her lap and she presses the vibration down into her, she slides the phone up her skirt pressing the vibration against the panties she's not supposed to be wearing.

The vibration wears off, and she pulls the phone out to read the message.

_No panties? You bad girl. They too_ _uncomfortable? You're soaked thinking of my hands on you. My hot breath on your_ _legs, pushing your skirt up._

She looks at the dark space under the desk and with a little imagination conjures him up, on his knees in front of her, his heavy hands pushing her skirt up, his hot breath on her skin and its making her wet; actually. properly wet for him.

She needs him to keep going.

_Then __what_

She sends quickly and slides a hand under her skirt to rub herself. The desk is large and has a front so she's adequately covered, but the idea that Veronica or a client or really anyone could catch her, makes it so much better.

Come on Dick. Make me _feel_ something.

The vibration comes again and she adds it to the feel of her fingers rubbing against her. She bites back a moan and when the phone stops vibrating she opens the message one handed.

With the other hand she slides past the damp cotton of her panties and prepares to slide a finger into her, right there in her office.

_Fuck you're beautiful, sitting there wet for me, _ _I press wet kisses against the insides of_ _your legs, slowly moving up_

She can see it, that beautiful blond hair brushing against the insides of her legs as he moves up her, and she slides a finger in.

"Fuck." She whispers to herself, her eyes shifting from one door to the other, pumping her finger in and out of her, curling her finger and adding another.

She starts a response twice before she cuts the bullshit.

_Sorry __hard __to __type __with __one __hand._

She sends the message one handed and tries to focus on her next message, but it's awfully hard with her fingers thrusting roughly into her, legs widening to give herself better access. She can feel something building, and _fuck_ she just wishes he was there, under her desk doing these things to her.

_I grab a handful of that pretty blond hair and slide a leg over your shoulder, my heel_ _running hard down your back._

She stares at the message. Come on Dick. I need you.

She bites her lip to keep her noises caged, rubbing and pumping she presses the phone hard into her waiting for his response.

Nothing happens.

"What the fuck?" Disappointed and scared that she'd gone too far, she pulls her phone up while pulling her fingers from her too wet core.

_Too __rough?_

She asks urgently. She hadn't really thought Dick would mind her getting a little rough with him, but maybe he didn't like that. Maybe he wanted to stay dominant, which she could totally do, she just needs this.

The phone buzzes quickly in her hand and she misses the vibration.

_Fuck no, please, I slide a finger slowly into you, my tongue flicking hard across you._

There we go. Now we're talking. She looks quickly around the office before sliding her hand up into her skirt again, past her panties and right into her wet, hot, waiting core.

_Fuck_ , she pumps faster, _please god_ , she drops the phone into her lap and slides her other hand into her shirt, rubbing and pinching herself; the images of Dick beneath her being a good 'good' boy. Her breathing is getting heavy when the phone vibrates across her lap again, down her leg and onto the floor.

"Fuck." She hisses and removes her hands from their duties, dropping to the floor to retrieve his next message.

She's on all fours on the floor, her body throbbing and hot, and God please be good, she just want to come, good and hard.

She picks the phone up, sliding her hand up her leg, grazing the skin of her legs slowly, her imagination is in sexy overdrive and the touch is him.

_Fuck I want to be inside you so bad, I'm so_ _hard for you..._ _I wish this hand was yours_

He is touching himself, and God she wishes it was her hand too, up his hard length, the soft puffs of his heavy breathing against her skin.

She pushes her fingers roughly back into her, building up a rough pace and trying to type out her message to Dick with the other.

"Mac? Everything okay down there?" Veronica's voice is pleasant enough but there's something off about it. God she knows exactly what she's doing, doesn't she?

She holds her phone up, screen carefully locked, in victory as if it had been elusive.

"Found it." She curses herself for saying anything; her voice is lower than usual.

"Okay..."

Mac pulls herself up into her seat, careful to keep the hand wet with her juices below board.

"Have you thought about it any?" She asks, and God please, please, go back into the office.

"_It?_"

"Dick?"

"Oh umm yeah..."

"And?"

"What kind of wine do you think I should get?"

"If you're wearing that skirt, it could be in a box, silly." She shakes her head in disbelief before disappearing back into the office, this time closing the door behind her.

She sends the message quick

_I want you inside me, hard and throbbing,_ _please, please bend me over this desk_

She leans down over the desk and tries to maneuver her fingers back up into herself, pumping and twisting, with image of Dick behind her slamming her into the desk, hot and burning across her brain. His hands hot on her skin and gripping hard, pushing her down into the desktop. She can almost feel his breath on her neck, his moans low in her ear.

She holds the phone to a breast, rubbing the hard edge across her hard nipple when another message comes across and sends her closer to the edge as it vibrates against her.

She only pulls the phone out of her shirt once the blissful vibration has stopped.

_I push you down onto that desk, bent over it,_ _skirt up around your waist, fucking beg for it._

Oh god would she ever beg for it, she's so close now.

_Please, please fuck me, I need it, you_

His response time is slower and she knows it's because he's typing with one hand. She wonders if he's using the vibrations of her words, too.

_Fuck_. The vibrations come again, across her breasts. God this is better than she expected.

_God your so wet and tight I slide right in,_ _deep, I bet we can shake that second_ _monitor off your desk._

And with that, it is impossible for him to think she is anyone else, and he's known all along. He's running his hand up and down his length picturing her, and doing these things to her.

_I can almost feel you, my fingers are too_ _small, you'd be so much bigger than them,_ _thick and hot. Come for me, touch yourself, hard, rough like you're slamming into me. I _ _want to hear you come from here_

She's surprised at herself, a little, as she reads the message over again, but she's too far gone now; she's masturbating at her desk with her best friend on the other side of that door.

Now really isn't the time to be shy.

Not when she was so close.

He takes his time responding and she's okay with that, less interruptions in her ministrations.

She's trying to push herself over the edge when she gets another message.

She moves it quickly into the elastic of her panties and continues, she just wants, needs, _needs_ to come and Dick is doing everything he can do to help from across the city because the messages come in quick succession, the moment one vibration ends another starts up and oh god.

She closes her eyes tight, her imagination, fingers and the vibrations drive her crashing over the cusp.

She bites her lip hard to keep the noise in, Dick's name desperately caged.

She lies on the desktop for a long moment before she slides into her chair.

Ugh, it's stained. She'll never live that down, but she doesn't care as much as she normally would because her body is still thick and warm from her orgasm.

With a sigh she pulls her phone out of its hiding place and looks at Dick's messages.

_Sticky, I want to taste your skin as you come, can you feel the thick hot cum, I want you_ _fucking filled, want to hear you come._

_Do it._

_Come right there, stain that chair, quick before they notice, pump your fingers in deep_.

She's temporarily mollified, but the images he's making send tingles to places that should be sated.

She wants to really feel him, deep and heavy, above her, below, beside... _fuck_ she doesn't care. So she sends a message.

_my lip is bleeding I had to bite down so _hard to_ keep from moaning your name as I came._ _I stained the chair..._ _I'm such a _bad girl_...promise to come over to my _place tonight_ to punish me_.

She looks at the last part of the message, for a long time, before she sends it.

_What __time_

Is his quick reply, and a rush of air leaves her. She tries to focus on the nice warmth and satisfaction that's sitting on her, but she had been scared that he'd turn her down.

_Nine, you know the address right_

_Yeah, I'll be there_

* * *

Its quarter to nine and she is more than ready to go.

She had downloaded a semi discrete vibration app on her phone shortly after the _when __I __see __you_ texts had started. And she's reread their entire encounter twice.

She's discarded her underwear. They had become too uncomfortable -too wet- just like he had said earlier, and is rubbing a finger slowly across herself, waiting for him to arrive and take her like promised.

_When __I __see __you __I'm __going __to __throw __you __over __my __lap __and __punish __you __for __being __a __bad __girl __today._

She's about to slide her finger into herself when there's a knock on the door.

_Dick_.

She jumps up from her spot on the edge of her bed, and runs to the front door.

She stops short and sucks the wetness off her finger then wipes it against her leg.

Opening the door she finds him standing there, looking at her nervously, a strain in his pants distracting.

"Hey..." She greets him and the word is low and breathy thanks to her pre show. Moving to the side she lets him in.

He looks adorably confused.

"You don't seem surprised to see me."

She can't stop the small smirk as she closes the door. She had been worried for nothing, he had been worried enough for the both of them.

"Why would I be surprised? I asked you to come over."

"So you knew it was me..."

She smiles at him, her hand reaching across the space between them, too much space, and does something she's wanted to do all day; she slides her fingers into that stupid, pretty, blond hair of his.

"Of course I did, who else would I send dirty texts to? Wallace?" The idea is ridiculous, but the anonymity had been her safety blanket, she let's go of his hair and let's her fingers slide down the hot, soft skin of his neck. She can feel him shake a little.

"You want to fuck me." He tells her plainly. She's always liked that about Dick, his lack of tact was oddly endearing.

"You want to fuck me." She returns, forcing herself away from his skin and warmth, and towards the bedroom. She wants him _badly_ and the best way to get that across might be to push him into the bedroom.

She pauses at her bedroom door and waits for him. He's close behind her, his eyes focused on her mouth, " You do still want to teach me my lesson, don't you?" She asks and is pleased with the confidence in the words, the heavy sounding tone.

"I've been thinking about you bent over my lap all day." He tells her, and she can feel the heat in her skin because _fuck_ she's been thinking about that too, " Pushing that skirt up around your hips, the feel of your skin, the sounds you'd-"

She surges forward and crashes her mouth, desperately, against his. She needs the contact, wants to feel him and taste him. He's moving against her, his movements hard and needy. She runs a hand up into his hair again; tugging on that stupid sunshine hair of his, brings a moan out of him that rocks across her whole body.

She pulls back, panting, and he's looking at her like he wants to just die this way, like she is the end all be all, and _God _it's empowering.

"There are things I want you to do with your mouth Dick, but talking isn't one of them."

He nods his head quietly, and let's her pull him into the bedroom.

She's not exactly sure what to do next, but it's not a problem because Dick sits down on the edge of her bed, grabs her by the wrists, and pulls her over his lap.

"Thank you, God." She mumbles and it's echoed by Dick as his hand slides slowly up her backside, taking the gray fabric up with him, exposing her.

He leans down to speak softly in her ear, " Bad girl." The words are hot, rolling, heavy things that cause her to rub her legs together, needing the friction.

Dick's hand comes down hard on her, and the moaning yelp that falls from her mouth does something to him. His hand comes down again, softly, and he rubs slowly, sliding his fingers down and across her wet opening, but never entering.

He's going to wait for her to beg him, she just knows it, and when his hand comes down hard, jolting her whole body forward, rubbing across his lap, she knows that she will and by the fourth she knows she doesn't want whatever meaningful relationship Veronica has lined up for her. She wants this, _him_, and when he presses a soft kiss to her cheek she know it won't be hard to sell him on it.


End file.
